


Send Your Most Handsome Delivery Man

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: Always and Forever [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Romance, Vogue Kurt, mention of prior minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: When Sebastian Smythe sends his husband flowers, it garners an array of reactions, both positive and petty. But the purpose behind the flowers, only a few people know. And the purpose behind the delivery man? To take away the sting.





	

“So, are these all the dresses we have to choose from for this year’s Prom spread?” Kurt asks on a beleaguered sigh.

“Why? What’s wrong with them?” Isabelle scans through the proofs on her tablet, hoping to stumble on _one_ that will catch Kurt’s fancy. A cornucopia of gowns flies by with every swipe of her fingertips, the bulk of them shimmery pastels and whites this year, with a few pale golds and silvers tossed in, all quite lovely, in her opinion.

“They’re just so … so _boring_.” Kurt pauses Isabelle’s scrolling with a hand on her wrist, stopping on the newest designs from Jessica McClintock. “I mean, really? Spaghetti strap sheaths with a drop back and absolutely no shaping. Aren’t a lot of these throwbacks from the late 80s, early 90s?”

“Retro’s in,” Isabelle argues, but not vehemently. She knows that Kurt’s not altogether _in the moment_. His mind’s somewhere else. He’s not there to work; he’s there to be removed from other things. So they’ll continue for the next hour, agree to disagree, then tomorrow, when things blow over, Kurt will come in with a clearer head and make the decisions that need to be made.

But, for now, he needs the distraction, and she’s more than willing to give it.

“Retro’s _always_ in,” Kurt groans, letting her keep scrolling. “It’s never not in. Retro has been the in thing for the past decade. Doesn’t anyone do anything original anymore?”

“Well, you know what they say about infinite monkeys and typewriters.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t compare any of these dresses to the works of Shakespeare. And, for the record, _I_ made the outfit that I wore to Prom, and I was crowned queen.”

“Wasn’t that more than a decade ago?”

Isabelle chuckles lightly. Kurt shoots her a venomous look.

“Bite your tongue, young lady.”

“If you don’t like these, there’s always …” The conference room phone cuts in, interrupting their conversation with a chirp. Kurt doesn’t acknowledge it. Isabelle presses the speaker button.

“Isabelle Wright,” she says.

“There’s a delivery down in reception for Mr. Hummel.”

“What is it?” Isabelle asks for him.

“It’s a _gorgeous_ bouquet of flowers delivered by a handsome gentleman in a suit.”

In the background they can hear the giggling of other ladies in reception, fawning over the flowers, _and_ the delivery man.

Isabelle looks at Kurt, still bent over the photographs, examining but not really examining them. He doesn’t crack a smile at the ridiculous goings on in reception, doesn’t comment about the gossip that must already be brewing. His eyes dart over to his cell phone on the desk, his lock screen displaying the date and the time. He nods, but does nothing else.

“Send him up,” Isabelle says.

The man walking the hallways of _Vogue_ is pretty much every woman’s – and many men’s – wet dream: tall, with broad shoulders, a sculpted face, and deep set green eyes surrounded by flecks of gold. He’s dressed in a crisp, grey, Armani suit; impeccably groomed, everything from his hair style to his clean shaven jaw on point. Smelling like expensive cologne and wearing a gold Rolex, he struts through the building with the confidence of a Fortune 500 CEO. In his hands he carries a boxed bouquet of roses so aromatic, they leave a scent trail through the office as he goes. Each rose is nearly the exact same size and shape, at the same stage of bloom, giving the bouquet an almost artificially uniform appearance.

Reactions to this man and the gift he bears vary, especially when people find out where the flowers are headed.

The young, fresh faced models, some still in their teens, _ahhh_! enviously when they see the striking man with the overflowing bouquet walk past the studio rooms. The smarter photographers take advantage of the moment, snapping away shot after shot of giddy giggles and honest smiles.

Meanwhile, some of the new hires and interns roll their eyes.

“Flowers?” they mutter, out of earshot. “Please. Isn’t that a little dated/unoriginal/dull? Especially for a man like Sebastian Smythe, who can afford to buy his husband a new Lamborghini every day till he dies?”

Then there are the in-betweeners, the ones who know Kurt and Sebastian’s story _vaguely_ , having gleaned their information from the unreliable gossip slung by outgoing temps and part timers. They _ooo!_ behind their hands, wondering what Sebastian did wrong _this time_ to warrant such an extravagant bouquet.

And then there are the few select people who _know_.

They know why the handsome man.

They know why the flowers.

They know what day today is.

They know that Kurt is at work because he does better around company, while Sebastian manages better alone. They’ll spend a portion of the day apart, then come together, traveling by taxi to meet up first in front of their favorite coffee shop, then continue the last stretch of their journey – a block and a half east – on foot, hand in hand, to deliver the flowers the rest of their way.

But for now, because Sebastian can’t be there himself, not yet, he orders two dozen roses – half pale pink, half diamond white. He has them sent to _Vogue_ , to Kurt Hummel, in lieu of their daughter Grace.

Neither man can walk into a florist’s shop and purchase these flowers. Neither of them has the strength required. And sending them ahead just seems too impersonal. So they split the task. Sebastian places the order. He has it saved on his phone. It’s a one-click process at a place that honors some pretty upscale special requests. And Kurt accepts them, holds on to them, pretends that they’re for him until he can deliver them with his husband to the final resting place of their daughter.

But to take away a bit of the sting, to help Kurt with the fantasy, Sebastian tells them to send their most handsome delivery man.


End file.
